


Raising The Stakes

by gelbes_gilatier



Series: Protect and Survive [11]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Captivity, F/M, Friendship, Het, Hurt/Comfort, Mission Fic, Torture, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-03-23
Updated: 2013-02-15
Packaged: 2017-11-02 10:37:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/368049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gelbes_gilatier/pseuds/gelbes_gilatier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laura Cadman is caught between a rock and a hard place. Or maybe rather between her heart and her head?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Godd... this is why one shouldn't post being sleep deprived. I'll try this again. Four chapters today, the rest when I'm less tired. Because I have to go through all of them since I acquired my awesome beta _after_ having started this series.

** Raising the Stakes **

_“You ask me to believe in magic  
Expect me to commit suicide of the heart  
And you ask me to play this game without question  
Raising the stakes on this shotgun roulette.”_

_Runrig, “Every River”_

** Prologue **

 

Punch, step, right, left, right.

She misses him.

Kick, punch, hook.

It’s been the predominant thought on her mind for the last two weeks.

Right, left, knee, punch.

She misses him. As simple, yet as complicated as that. She misses his smile, his steady presence, even his cryptic remarks She misses the late-night conversations and the bantering. She misses the dimples and the storyteller’s voice. She misses everything about him. As much… as much as she’d missed Carson when he’d still been dead, except that Evan’s still there, which only serves to double the pain.

And because she doesn’t want to be reminded of the pain, she has another go at the sandbag in her room. She’d tried running to get all of this out of her head but she found out that only good old violence can help her get a grip on everything. And so she puts everything into her kicks and punches, until it hurts.

She knows she shouldn’t be doing this to herself, mostly because it’s her own fault. She shouldn’t have run away like that but it had just been way too much for her. The trouble with Carson, Evan’s helpless shrug, really looking like for once in his life he had no idea what to say or do, her own confusing feelings… Just too much.

And after that… she just hadn’t had the heart to talk to him again… or Carson, come to think of it. There is, of course, a considerable amount of embarrassment on her side for being so blind – willfully, at that – for all these weeks and for her reaction. She knows she hurt Evan as much as Carson and has no idea how to get it right anymore.

All this confusion and insecurity makes her angry at herself. It’s not some wraith face she sees in front of her, not some Genii… it’s not even Carson or Evan, she sees. Nuh-uh, sir, she sees herself. She’s a Marine; she should be able to handle this.

The worst thing is that she feels that it’s already starting to show in her performance. She hasn’t exactly become sloppy, but now and then, when she doesn’t have to concentrate too hard, her mind is just a little off. A bit like when she had these weird spells with feeling Carson’s presence in the weeks after his death, before she had returned to Earth. Only now it’s not some ghostly presence, it’s two very real men that give her headaches.

Two real men she could run into every day; she _does_ run into occasionally. And every time she does, they’re all very civil, polite, professional… and it hurts. It hurts more than silence or anger, she had to discover. She’s been on one mission with Evan ever since the Balcony Incident, and it had been _horrible_. Not in the way of the one with the crazed villagers, mind you. No, it’s been a nice, tidy babysitter mission for some of the linguists on a planet with nothing more than a few ruins and the occasional mid-sized animal.

And so usually you sit around while the scientists do their scanning and prodding, with the occasional alarming shriek that makes you go into combat mode only to discover that one of them just made their discovery of a life time. Then you grumble a little and go back to sitting around and occasionally checking the perimeters.

There had been a time – before all this messing around had started – when they would use the idle time for exchanging stories from their respective times serving in the SGC or from their training or about their families. Or maybe place a few bets on selected scientists, banter a little… all the things friends do. Of course they would still call each other “Lieutenant” and “Major”, but they’d be comfortable around each other.

But then they had to go and spoil everything with all the emotional mess. And because she’d been too afraid and too confused to clean up the mess, they went on the babysitter mission with lots of time on their hands and instead of friendship only awkwardness and politeness and professionalism. They’d barely spoken and not exactly tried to ignore each other but rather ignored the fact that only a week ago he’d amused her with Westley and Buttercup’s adventures and she’d been happy to listen to it.

She’d told herself after that that she would fix this but so far she’s done a piss-poor job of it, mostly because she’s just been way too much of a coward to actually talk to Carson or Evan. Every time she tells herself that _now_ she really has to do it, she stands in front of either one’s quarters, has her hand ready to knock… and lets it sink again, unable to do the last step. It’s downright annoying her.

How come she had enough confidence in her knowledge about human behavior, flirting and all that stuff to try and help Rodney in his endeavors with Katie Brown but has no idea how to sort out the mess her own love life has become? She could tell Captain Reece _exactly_ what she has to do to either finally net her team leader or send him out the door and she knows it would _work_. She could tell Dr. Parrish that one of the girls from the IT department finds him rather cute and how he could get her into a date and it would _work_. But for some odd, stupid, god-forsaken reason she can’t do _anything_ right in her own life.

It’s this feeling of ineptitude that makes her deliver a few extra hard punches aginst the sandbag that really make her hands hurt. A picture flashes through her mind. Evan’s right hand, with a bandage around it, only one or two days after the mission that somehow set everything of this in motion… She pauses.

Was that the “accident” that had happened to him? Had he, somehow, somewhere felt the same need to release the tension and the stress with punching something? She sure hopes it was some _thing_ instead of some _one_ but she can’t remember anyone running around the city with something that could have been caused by a blow strong enough to bruise a hand bad enough that it had to be wrapped.

She wishes she’d offered him some support back then. He wouldn’t have talked to her about it but she could have done a better job of telling him not to worry too much or accuse himself of things that hadn’t been his fault anyway. But _no_ , she had to go and blow it all up about a couple of sketches.

Her chest still heaving a little after her… _extensive_ work-out, she turns around to her desk. There the sketchbook lies around, like a lurking presence reminding her time and again of what an idiot she is. And if that isn’t already enough, there’s also Evan’s copy of _The Princess Bride_ lying on the desk as well. He’d forgotten it the night before at her bedside and she’d wanted to give it back to him… but then it had made its way back to her quarters, together with the sketchbook of DOOM.

For two weeks she came into her quarters, stared at the two offending objects for a second or two and then went on ignoring them. Or at least trying to ignore them. They’ve been giving her headaches, just by sitting around there on the edge of her consciousness.

With an exasperated sigh, she flings the strips she uses to protect her hands into a corner and stalks over to her desk. Cautiously, like it’s one of her explosives, she takes the sketchbook up and starts to leaf through it from the beginning.

It’s amazing, she thinks, how much she recognizes of Evan in his sketches. There are parts of Atlantis, a jumper, some of his team members, a picture of Elizabeth Weir, a few strange animals, even two or three Wraiths among them… most of them with a few strong strokes, as if done in a few minutes of spare time but still exact. Nope, Evan Lorne doesn’t ever do things halfway.

And then come the pages where she starts to take up more and more space. At first it’s maybe one quick sketch in three pages but in the end there’s only the occasional odd animal or building thrown in for good measure, or at least that’s what it looks like. She leafs back a few pages and discovers that he’s put more effort into her sketches than into the other portraits, the further she goes in the sketchbook. It’s almost as if she could see his feelings grow with the time they have spent together on Atlantis.

With a thud she closes the sketchbook again. Suddenly, the sketches became too intimate for her to bear. It almost felt like being in his head for a moment and that only serves to feed her guilt. This really has to stop. All of it.

It’s not only Evan and his feelings that worry her but also Carson. For weeks they had danced around each other, always with the faint promise of something more serious in the backs of their minds but there just never _happened_ anything. Should have tipped her off right away but they do have a lot of issues to steer clear of… their first break-up, the explosion, the clone-thing… it just seemed to be enough baggage to take it very slow.

Turned out, though, that _she_ ’d had a specific piece of baggage that only Carson had the courage to admit to see. She really has to talk to him, assure him that it’s not his fault and that she still wants and needs his friendship. She also has to talk to Evan because this really can’t go on into all eternity.

Mostly because she is scheduled as security detail on a mission with Carson for tomorrow. And, well, with Evan as team leader. She really doesn’t want to experience another mission like the one a few days ago. So, maybe… while Carson is doing his vaccinating and checking-up stuff, she’ll have enough time to apologize to Evan and prepare the ground for some lengthy talk – as much as she hates lengthy talks. Hopefully Carson will be too occupied to develop any jealous…

Ah, hell.

She knows what she has to do: once and for all make it clear to both of them that neither of them will become anything more than a friend to her. Choosing one over the other would always end up in tears one way or the other. Carson… she likes Carson, but she thinks she finally closed the file labeled with “Carson Beckett, boyfriend”. Maybe all that had been lacking had been a real closure, something without accusations and awkwardness. And Evan… it all comes down to the fact that he’s her CO. It’s cliché, she knows, and it feels like having written “Jack O’Neill and Samantha Carter” all over it, but that’s just how it is: you don’t date your CO, period. Besides… Zoomie and jarhead? Wouldn’t have worked anyway. At least, that’s what she tells herself over and over again.

And so she decides to give him back the books after tomorrow’s mission and in the process clear up all this stupid tension between them. She just has to get through that mission with him _and_ Carson. Should be a cake walk.


	2. One

** One **

Here they go again. A medical visit to one of the planets they have allies on. Check up on the villagers, vaccinations, general chit-chat, checking their blood for the neurotoxin one of the crazy sci fi nerds in the infirmary dubbed “Reavers’ Finest” and which turned out to contain a very high concentration of a component of Wraith enzyme… Piece of cake, and probably mighty boring for her and the others on the security detail, namely Evan and – surprisingly – Sergeant Meyers.

But boring is good, she tells herself. At least boring keeps all of them from getting injured or killed. And she’d take being bored about getting injured and killed any day. So… just doing some last check up on everything and they’re good to go. “Alright, everyone set?” She turns around. Evan’s already done, eager to go.

“Yes, sir,” she acknowledges, trying to catch his eye. But all he does is stare at the wall opposite him and nod. She shoots a look at Carson who pretends to be checking his sidearm of all things, and she can’t hold back from rolling her eyes. This is ridiculous. One of them won’t speak to her because he tries to soldier on and suck it up and the other won’t because out of some “I told you so and you wouldn’t listen.” complex. With slight resignation mixed with a little irritation on her face she turns to Meyers who just gives her a shrug and a look that says “Don’t ask me, I’m just the NCO-guy.”

Whee, that looks like this thing is going to be lots of fun, she thinks with a considerable amount of sarcasm. But as it is, she has no other option than to shrug it off and go on with business as usual. Suppressing a sigh, she holsters the Beretta, takes up the P90 and follows Evan and Carson out of the locker room.

None of them speaks, which bodes well for the mission to come. Well… not. To distract herself from the uncomfortable silence, she runs the mission specs through her mind for one last time. The inhabitants of M8X-986 are scheduled for one of the regular medical visits Atlantis provides for all their allied planets not developed far enough for supporting their own health care system. Evan is responsible for the team with her as his 2IC, Carson is the accompanying doctor, and obviously someone added Meyers as his assistant, as the Sergeant is carrying some of the medical equipment.

M8X-986, as she recalls it, is a planet with thick woods and rather mountainous with an extensive cave-system. This time of year, their target zone will be covered in snow, which is why they wear slightly bulky winter BDUs. She’s actually looking forward to it a little, because quite frankly she’s a little tired of all the green woods and bleak deserts.

The ‘Gate itself is located in a small valley, with the inhabitants living in caves a walk of about two or three miles away. They are friendly, welcoming, if a little bit shy, like most of the people they are dealing with. Carson shouldn’t have any problems with checking them up and give them his shots.

Their orders are to get there and stay overnight, on the kind invitation of the villagers, and if there wasn’t this stupid triangle tension she’d be actually looking forward to it. Their hosts are good cooks, and she’s been living off steak, jello and sandwiches for too long. It would also be a break from dangerous retrieval or scouting ops or boring excursions to some ruins, but… well, she’ll have to make the best of it. And there’s just something to a happily burning camp fire in a cave that may loosen up a certain stubborn officer’s tenacity or a certain doctor’s determined silence.

Anyway, it’s gating time again, so they all step up in front of the ‘Gate. She’s standing right between Evan and Carson, and the irony of it does not escape her, though she chooses not to dwell on it. She’s got a job to do, and she’s sick of her personal feelings interfering with this. With new grim determination she grips her P90 just a little tighter, lifts her chin just a little higher and puts just a little more resolve into her pace when she finally makes the step through the ‘Gate.


	3. Two

** Two **

And here they go again. Another planet, another extraterrestrial forest, another medieval society. Shaking off the post gating dizziness, she takes a look around. It’s a little cloudy and freezing cold, but overall a really nice winter day. The snow is lying thick on the trees around them, suddenly reminding her of the fact that back home spring is only a month or two away. For just a moment she feels a very strong bout of homesickness surge through her, but thankfully their welcoming party appears out of the woods and takes her mind off everything distracting.

Mostly, because it’s just one villager. She recalls reading mission reports about this planet, all stating that they were greeted by a group of at least five people, with some welcome gifts, nice warm words, the whole nine yards… and what do they get? A lone, haunted looking fellow who walks as though he was treating on very thin ice. The first thought surfacing in her mind actually is a very pronounced “Not _again_.”

She shoots Evan a short look, and this time he finally looks back. His expression isn’t easy to read – it seems as if he’s closed his face off nearly completely these days, even… _especially_ to her – but she thinks she can detect the same sentiment she just had in him. She also registers the slight raising of the P90 and the tightening of his jaw. With Evan, she thinks, it’s always the small things that you should have an eye on. So she readies herself. Something is afoot here.

Finally, the villager has arrived at their position. He looks just like the mission reports have described the inhabitants of M8X-986. McKay would have said “Oh no, it’s one of these guys straight out of “Prince of Thieves” again.” But it’s not the clothes bothering her, it’s the strange haunted look in his eyes he tries to conceal so frantically.

“My name is Kilaren. I’m here to welcome you, travelers.” Well, alright, that sounds about normal, doesn’t it? Maybe she’s just imagining things, had a little too much of easy-mission-gone-wrong recently.

“Thank you, Kilaren. We are… most honored. I’m Major Lorne and these are Lieutenant Cadman and Sergeant Meyers. And of course Dr. Beckett, whom you already know.” Evan even sketches a little bow.

The next one to speak up is Carson. “Pleased to meet you again, Kilaren. Is something wrong that you are coming out here alone?” Kilaren, a sturdy man wrapped up in furs, looks like being about to blurt out something at Carson’s kind request, but obviously something is keeping him back the last moment.

So he just settles with a forced smile and a voice that, even though muffled, says pretty plainly that he’s lying through his teeth, “No, everything is alright. We are, in fact, all very healthy and busy. So busy that we… kindly ask you to come back another time, please.” Yep, something’s messed up here. Why the hell would he tell them _now_ not to come to the caves, if he could have done this at least three days earlier? And, as she recalls it, societies like his use the winter to rest and take things a little lighter. Harvesting is their high season, not winter.

Obviously, Evan had the same thing on his mind. After sharing a look with Carson – both of them looking not convinced – he gives Kilaren an apologetic shrug and says, “We don’t want to disturb you, but… we have our orders. Dr. Beckett here really needs to do some check ups, doesn’t he?”

Carson thankfully gets his clue fast enough and eagerly nods. “Oh, aye. There have been bad things happening on other planets, and we need to make sure that it’s not happening here as well. We really won’t be bothering you long. It’s all for your own benefit, believe me.” Kilaren doesn’t look very convinced.

“We know, we know. We are very grateful for everything Atlantis does for us, but… we would really like you to come back in a few weeks.” He’s trying to tell them something… tell them to keep off this planet. And that means that whatever is happening here, it isn’t good. Which, in turn, means that they have _every_ cause to _stay_.

She really wants to tell Evan to abort this mission and radio Atlantis for backup, but she also knows that it’s his call and that the worst thing she could do would be interfering with this now. So she takes a deep steadying breath and concentrates on their surroundings. The atmosphere seems strangely charged and Kilaren’s almost frantic pleads to leave the planet haven’t done anything to dispel the rising bad feeling in her guts.

Kilaren waits for their answer, and she waits as well. Her ears pricked for any unusual sounds, she still keeps her eyes on Evan, and for the first time he really looks at her. Not just a short glance, but a real look, as if he registered only now that she’s a part of this mission as well. He wants to look away again, but she manages to hold his gaze just for a moment longer. Yeah, that’s right, she thinks, I’m here, and I want you to _know_ it.

When she finally allows him to break eye contact, he gives her a little nod, hopefully as a sign that he has finally agreed to stop ignoring her. He takes a deep breath, has obviously come to some conclusion. “Alright… tell you what: we’ll just dial up and I’ll ask Atlantis for further orders. Would that be okay?”

 _Yes_ , she wants to shout. Yes, yes, yes. She’s not a coward, but the memories of their pre-last mission together are still fresh in her mind – in fact, she’s woken up more than one night after a particularly nasty nightmare stemming from this mission. So, yes, just for once she wants to avoid walking into a trap.

Kilaren, though, shakes his head, now having shed all pretense about the population being “too busy and not needing any assistance”. “No I would advice you to go back immediately. You can send us your leaders’ answer from the other side of the Ring.” She can see that Evan gets a little impatient now. The long breath he takes is supposed to keep him calm.

Again, it’s the little things that make her aware of the fact that he’s probably felt the change of atmosphere – from awkward to charged up to latently threatening – as well. Like how he wouldn’t clip his P90 to his vest or how he keeps moving his eyes, trying to take in all his surroundings at once… and assuring himself that there is, at all times, one of them near enough Carson to keep him out of the line of fire, should something happen.

“Meyers, dial up the Atlantis.” Meyers, who’s closest to the ‘Gate of them walks over to the DHD, but before he reaches it, the underlying thread that has been in the air for the past few moments suddenly erupts into full blown danger as Wraith stunner shots are starting to ring through the air. Immediately, she moves to push Carson down and cover him, while Evan and Meyers fire into the woods from where the shots are coming.

Evan shouts at Meyers to get the DHD up and working, but Meyers is the first going down after being hit in the back by a stun bolt. In a corner of her mind that’s not occupied with moving Carson to safety behind the DHD while trying to avoid getting hit by the stun bolts, she curses unabashedly. While she’d been thinking they were doing something to keep away from walking into a trap again, they’d already had their feet deep in it. Well, would have been asked too much for this going smoothly, anyway.

She’s almost there now… almost at the DHD. After a shocked second Carson realized what he was supposed to do, and he’d worked with her to get to the DHD. Almost there… “Laura!” Ah, she thinks a little sourly, only took Evan being hammered by stun bolts to switch from “Lieutenant Cadman.” to “Laura” again. “Dial Atlantis. Don’t look back, just…” And with that, Evan is down as well. Now it’s just her and Carson, and she knows she should be dialing and dragging both of them back to Atlantis, but she’s been too long in Atlantis. Sheppard’s absolute “Leave no man behind.” attitude is already too ingrained into her as well.

“Laura! You heard the Major!” Carson’s shouting shakes her from furiously working up a plan to avoid leaving Evan and Meyers behind. She _knows_ she needs to… and there’s Carson down. _No_ way she’s going… She never gets to finish that thought because in the end, the stun bolts strike her as well, leaving her to a terrifying moment of helplessness and one last explicit thought of “ _Crap_."


	4. Three

** Three **

With a start she jerks awake. Freezing water runs down her face and kind of makes it impossible to hold on to a thought at the first moment. Then she hears Carson’s slightly agitated voice and finally remembers what exactly happened. “Let me check on them. They might have serious…”

“There is no need to check your people.” Oh, this is a new voice. It’s slightly raspy, deep, with a cruel edge to it. It makes her shiver in a totally different way from the coldness at the ‘Gate. Slowly, she opens her eyes. Drops from the gush of water that obviously woke her up keep obscuring her vision and instinctively she wants to wipe them away. This is the moment she realizes her hands are bound behind her back. She can just suppress an annoyed groan. Of _course_ they would be bound. She’s also been stripped off her vest, which makes her feel strangely vulnerable.

“Ah, there’s another one awake.” Oh great, somehow she managed to draw the attention of their captor/jail master/whatever to herself. The man – a guy in his thirties, with non-describe rag-tag clothing on and a scar at the edge of his mouth that turns it into a constant sneer – crouches down in front of her. “Such a pretty little girl. I never understood why they keep sending out all those girl soldiers from Atlantis.”

He’s even closer to her now. Close enough that he can touch her hair and she can see a glimmer in his eyes that has nothing to do with the fire in the background and everything with a deranged mind. Great. Why is it always her that ends up on missions containing lunatics, weirdoes and psychopaths? He keeps touching her hair, plays with a strand that must have fallen lose during the short skirmish at the ‘Gate. It makes her want to recoil in disgust, but at the same time her pride in being a Marine and her spirited temper don’t allow her to show any fear.

So she just straightens her back a little more and lifts up her chin. “Maybe because we little girl soldiers are worth two big men soldiers.” She’s lying, of course. Even two of her couldn’t replace Evan or Colonel Sheppard or any of the other male USAF, USMC and other nations’ SFs. But this guy really doesn’t need to know that.

“Ah, a little loudmouth.” He brought his face next to hers to whisper in her ear. “I’m sure we’ll have a lot of fun together.” Before she can react with an appropriate remark – something alongside “Why don’t you just throw yourself into that fire? I’m sure there’s _someone_ around here who would find _that_ amusing.” – someone else already reacts.

“Keep away from her.” Both of them turn their heads. Carson is giving the guy the look he usually reserves for people threatening to keep him from doing his work. It’s scary enough to shut Sheppard up, keep Woolsey out of the infirmary and reduce Rodney to humble muttering. The only thing stronger than that is Keller _and_ Carson looking like that at someone.

The guy – don’t all evil guys usually like to go bragging around their damn names? – though doesn’t seem too fazed by it. In fact, he doesn’t even back away from her. “And who are you to tell me what to do, little man?” Uh-oh. She can see the agitation building up in Carson. Dammit. He’d been held hostage by Michael for over two years, with Michael relentlessly killing people right in front of his eyes to convince him to help him with his research. This must feel like a flashback for him.

“Let. Her. Go.” The whole thing already is taking a strain on him. He can barely contain his anger and his worry for her, and that makes him brave. And stupid. Why couldn’t he let _her_ handle the situation? Now the guy will have it worked out in no time that she means something to at least one of their party and will use it against them. Just. Fucking. Great.

And yes, Mr. Evil doesn’t seem to be a particularly stupid villain. “You seem to be awfully agitated. Am I making you nervous? Does _this_ make you nervous?” And with that he trails two of his fingers down her exposed neck. They are very cold, making her want to shrug them off and run as far away as possible. But it’s still a matter of pride, and she doesn’t want to show _any_ weakness, to neither of them. So she just keeps sitting there, with her feet tugged at the side and her back ramrod straight.

Before Carson, who seems to be barely able to reign in his anger now, can say anything, she hears another voice chime in, rather low, but with a dangerous edge to it. “The Doc told you to leave her alone. If I were you, I’d listen to him.” Seems like Evan finally decided to make himself noticed. And of course he just _has_ to join the Rescue-Helpless-Princess-Laura-Cadman bandwagon.

“Why should I?” Mr. Evil obviously seems to have identified Evan as the bigger thread, because he does let go of her now and walks over to Evan to crouch down in front of him. She makes a mental note that in all his insanity he obviously underestimates Carson, and maybe herself as well.

“She’s of no interest to you.” Ah, and she shouldn’t have underestimated Evan either. As opposed to Carson, his tone doesn’t betray any affection for her. It’s matter-of-fact, if not even a bit condescending.

Still doesn’t help them much, obviously, because Mr. Evil sounds honestly interested now. “What makes you say so?”

Evan manages to shrug, what with his hand bound behind his back and everything. “She’s just a subordinate. She doesn’t know anything. If you want intel… try me.” Argh, _no_. Up to now she was confident he was doing well at playing down her part and her place in his heart, but this… argh. Guys like this Mr. Evil… they take you by your word.

“Maybe I’m not interested in any information.” Oh yes, you are, you evil bastard. She can hear it in his voice, could see it in the way his interest was piqued when Evan spoke up. At least she _hopes_ that it’s intel the guy is after.

“You keep your hands off her and the others. Anything you want, you get it from _me_. But you leave all of them alone.” Oh God, no, he’s doing the great act of sacrifice, probably because he thinks it’s his fault they are in this mess. Or maybe because he thinks he can take the most beatings of them all. But, so help her God, she’s a fucking Marine, and she made it to Atlantis. They didn’t send her there for nothing.

“So? From you, huh? How? Maybe… like this?” And with that the first blow lands in Evan’s face. Mr. Evil has backhanded him and something on his hand – some kind of ring, she recognizes – has cut open his left cheek and left a bloody trail all over it. Great.

He didn’t even have the decency to tell them who he is and he already has drawn blood. Time for a diversion, before he goes on marring Evan’s face further. “Hey, least you could do is tell us at whose mercy we are.”

Mr. Evil whips around again, letting go of Evan who’s shaking his head and not looking particularly happy that she intervened. Well yes, Mr. Air Force, this little girl Marine refuses to let anyone get hurt on her watch. “Ah, my little loudmouth again. She’s a feisty one.” He looks back at Evan, with something like… appreciation in his face. As if praising another man’s… cattle. Blergh.

“Yeah, most of all she’d like to know your _name_.” She knows she is treating a _very_ fine line here. But she also knows she has to keep him occupied to give the boys an opportunity to think something up. It’s become apparent to her very fast that she can actually use his special interest in her to distract him. So she can very well make herself the decoy and the one wheedling any information out of him.

It might prove a tad taxing, though, because he seems to have some strange fetish with whispering things into her ear. “My name, little one,” – how she _hates_ it when someone calls her that – “is of no importance to you.” Ah, hey, surprise, surprise. “You might be familiar with the name Aiden Ford, though.” Oh. Okay. _That_ is a surprise.

She swallows, trying to decide what to tell him. Then, “Nope. Never heard of him.” Her breath hitches in her throat when she feels him tugging a lose strand behind her ear.

“Oh, I believe you have. Well… let’s just say I used to know him. Even could be called his friend. Back, when his “friends” from Atlantis had already abandoned and betrayed him.” Oh, _great_. One of Ford’s merry little band of wannabe super heroes. Shouldn’t they have all gone to happy hunting grounds years back?

“What do you want from _us_ then?” He grins, extending the eternal sneer in his face.

“All in due time, my dear. Now... how about I let you take care of the mess this one over there just brought upon himself?” She catches a look from Carson who positively looks like he’s going to tell Mr. Evil to let _him_ have a look at everyone again, but she just has this feeling that he won’t get a positive answer, maybe even receive the answer Evan has received. Meyers is still out, and someone really should take care of the guys.

She shrugs, trying to seem unimpressed. “Sure, knock yourself out.” The moment he gets to loosen her bound hands, her body gets taut, like a rope ready to snap, but when she catches Evan’s eyes, he ever so slightly shakes his head, making it clear that she should refrain from _any_ action. So she forces herself to relax and appear completely unthreatening. Probably Evan is right, and they need a little more time to assess the whole situation before they can act. Still doesn’t change the fact that this guy just creeps her out and makes her want to run very fast from this cave.

Finally he freed her from her bounds. Obviously he estimates her to be the team’s weakest member. She would _love_ to contradict him, but as Evan told her, this just isn’t the right time and place for it, yet. With a last sneer, their captor finally leaves through one of the thick wooden doors to plan only God knows what evil.

With a rush of relief she finally flexes her hands, rolls her shoulders and resolutely redoes the pony-tail. Every little thing is actually meant to shake off the strange icky feeling their captor’s touches have left behind. When she’s done she feels strong enough that she doesn’t have to fake resolve for the guys.

“Alright… let’s see if I can cut you all lose.” She even cracks her fingers and wants to start working on Carson’s bindings, but Evan interrupts her.

“Negative. I want him to believe that we are very, very stupid. If he’s really one of Ford’s guys… he’s absolutely unpredictable.” Carson nods.

“Aye. We don’t know if he’s still taking the enzyme, how much the probably long lasting abuse has affected his brain…” She rolls her eyes. How stupid do they think she is, huh?

“Hey, _all_ I was saying is unbinding you _now_ to give you all a chance to stretch up, give Carson the chance to patch you up, have a look at Meyers… I’ll get you all wrapped up again in no time.” Evan shakes his head.

“Still negative. Laura, we have no idea when he’s going to be back. You really need to keep him thinking you’re the harmless one whose big mouth is just a cover for her fear.” If he knew how close he just came with that assumption… another thing she sure is never gonna tell him, even if they make it back to being friends.

“Alright. Fine. But I sucked at first aid training. You’re not gonna have much fun with me dressing that gash across your cheek.” A short humorless ghost of a laugh escapes Evan’s mouth.

“I really think I can live with that.” She sighs and looks back at Carson. Somehow it’s embarrassing to have to admit that first aid was never her strong suit to the one who might very well be the best doctor in two galaxies. And well, used to be her boyfriend, once upon a time.

“You’ll do just fine, Laura.” She gives him a smirk.

“Right.” She turns to Evan, not willing to let Carson see possible hints at her not being comfortable with her current role _at all_. “Now… let’s see if we can wake up Sergeant Sleeping Beauty and then get those ugly red smears out of your face.”

With that, she walks over to Meyers and after some shaking he actually wakes up. She’s really relieved to see him unharmed, except for the slight dizziness one always experiences after being hit with a stun bolt. After checking his pupils and filling him in on what happened – his grumbled “Not _again_ the merry men.” expresses very accurately what they all are thinking – she moves on to raid what Mr. Evil has left of Carson’s medical supplies. Of course he hasn’t left a single sharp or pointy object in there, but at least a few bandages, band aids and other stuff to wrap wounds is still inside.

Armed with everything she thinks she might need, she approaches Evan and crouches down beside him. Gingerly, she grabs his chin and positions his profile so that she can use all the fire’s sparse light. She’s pretty sure she’s not the gentlest of nurses, so she chooses to quietly talk to him to distract him. “You are an idiot.”

Argh. Way to go, Lieutenant. Why don’t you demote yourself while you’re at? This is surely _not_ the right way to talk to your CO whose heart is probably still a little sore from you trampling on it. “Oh right, and _you_ are the right person to tell me that exactly _why_?” He doesn’t sound very amused. But, come to think of it, not seriously offended either. Mh.

She starts dapping at the gash with some wet cloth, and involuntarily he flinches. “Hold still.” He sighs a little impatiently. Yes, well, it was _his_ idea to let her do this. “ _I_ wasn’t the one getting hit. Why couldn’t you just keep your trap shut?” And why can’t _she_ keep her trap shut? But obviously all the worry about him being hit more than just this is eager to let itself known, and the only thing she can do is transfigure it into snarkyness.

“Because I needed to distract him from you.” Oh, of course, right. As if she didn’t already knew _that_.

“Bullshit. I can stand my ground pretty well, thank you very much.” She needs to be careful, that her righteous anger isn’t transferring itself into her attempts at cleaning his wound.

And the fact that he suddenly turns his face toward her doesn’t help her either. “Believe me, Laura… you can _not_ stand your ground against someone like _this_.” They way he looks at her tells her that he really means this. And that he thinks he needs to protect her from this. But she _hates_ it when guys try to go down that road with her, so this time she lets her anger show through.

“Hey, if this is about what happened on the balcony…” He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. She’s sure that if his hands were free, he’d probably throw them up.

“It’s _not_. It’s about you wanting to solve this single-handedly, which you just _can’t_.” His voice has climbed a few steps up the volume, showing that this is already getting to him. She wants to say something, something about stupid male soldiers always patronizing female soldiers and trying to tell them what they can do and what they can’t, but he seems to have anticipated this because he continues talking without giving her the chance to barge in, this time a lot less agitated and a lot more like a friend than a CO. “And you don’t _have_ to. This is what a team is there for.”

He’s right. Of course he’s right. When did she stop being a team player? Oh right, when – maybe for the first time ever – her gender was becoming an issue on a mission. But that’s not his fault and she shouldn’t treat him as if it was. “Alright then.” Still doesn’t mean she’ll let the guys do all the dirty work. “Just promise me you will let me fulfill my part when it’s due.” He nods looking strangely defeated. And then she realizes that this might be the last possibility for them to talk quietly before the shit hits the fan, so she decides to seize her chance here and now. “And something else.”

“Some… okay… what else?” he replies a little wary, with his eyebrow raised.

She takes a deep breath. “When this is over, we _will_ talk about what happened on the balcony.”

He takes his time with answering, up until she’s nearly done with cleaning and dressing the gash in his cheek. “Fine. Although I don’t see anything that needs to be talked about.”

She has to grin a little at his muttering, and before she can hold herself back, she murmurs: “Oh, you’d be awfully surprised.”

He wants to answer something, but obviously thinks better of it and chooses to ignore it. “Well, people… as long as this guy is out of the room, we need to find a solution to all of this. Any suggestions?”


	5. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, _one_ more. But that's really the last for tonight. I promise.

** Four **

“So… long story short: We have no idea where we are, we have no weapons, we have no idea for how long we’ve been in here and our host is some psycho enzyme junkie. Is that about right?” Evan throws a look around, and everyone nods. If his hands hadn’t been bound back, he’d be rubbing his face in frustration, she’s sure of that.

“Well, sounds like a piece of cake, doesn’t it?” Everyone turns their head to look at Meyers, who hasn’t said much up to now. “What?” he says a little unnerved by their disbelieving gazes. “If Sheppard and his team can get out of stuff like this, we sure can do it as well.” Against her will, she has to grin about his cocky optimism.

“If I remember it correctly, Sergeant, usually it’s us who need to rescue them out of stuff like this.” He’s really trying to stay serious, but she can hear his own – a little ill-placed, granted – amusement through the disapproval.

“Well, then…” a smug smile graces Meyer’s face, “they owe _us_ a rescue mission.”

“They certainly owe _me_ one. Why do I always let them talk me into off-world missions, anyway?” Now it’s Carson everyone turns their heads to.

Evan cocks his head a little and can barely hide a grin. “Because deep down in your heart you do enjoy the thrill and excitement of going off-world, Doc.”

“I’d rather watch my wee turtles the whole day than pass an hour off-world,” Carson replies in a rather comical morose tone.

“You actually were allowed to keep turtles, Doc? That’s just not fair. I remember this one time, when we brought back this cute little furry thing from…” Meyers starts to tell them, but it dawns on her that they might not have much time before their captor is back again.

“Uh, guys, not to spoil your fun or anything… but we seriously gotta get out of here, you know.” Oops. That should have been Evan’s line. She should really stop forgetting who’s the commanding officer around here.

Evan, though, only shows mild disapproval, as he says, “Thank you for pointing this out, Lieutenant. Now… what about getting your mind back on the original task, people?” Everyone clears their throats and shuffles around a bit, at least as far as it’s possible with most of them with their hands not exactly free to move. “Right, that’s what I thought. So now that I have your full attention… way I see it, we need to find out: where are we? What does that guy want from us? How long until our next check-in with Atlantis? How to get weapons? How to get out of here? Agreed?” They all nod. “Good. Now, first off: I want everyone of you to lay low for a while. No heroics, no quips,” and yes, there comes the pointed look in her direction, “no provocation. But maybe show a little fear. Let him think we’re a bunch of inept cowards. We still need time to assess the situation and we need to make time until Atlantis discovers we’re gone.”

“But wouldn’t Sheppard expect…” she starts to ask, but he shakes his head, cutting her short.

“I know you want to kick the guy’s ass, Laura, and believe me, _I_ want to as well, but we’re in no position to do so. For all we know he could still be on the enzyme, and he’d be no match then, even for all of us together.”

“Besides, there must be a reason for him to have kept us alive until now,” Carson chimes in and gets a nod from Evan.

“Exactly. So… tasks for all of you: Laura, you keep him thinking you’re weak. That way, at least one of us obviously gets the chance to be free to move around a little more. And yes, you should needle him for information a little more.” Dammit, why does she keep forgetting how apt at reading her he always used to be? “Just try not to offend him.” She makes a face. Yes, sometimes she _can_ reign her temper in, thank you very much. “Dr. Beckett, same goes for you. Play it like this: you’re just a doctor, you don’t hurt people, you’re completely harmless.”

“I _am_ completely harmless, son,” Carson barges in a little exasperated. It only prompts a smirk from Evan.

“Really? Makes me wonder how you manage to keep all of us longer than five minutes in the infirmary, then. Or out of it, come to think of it.” Carson wants to say something – most probably protest Evan’s implication of him being scary – but Evan is in CO-mode now, not willing to tolerate any more needless interruptions. “Anyway… we need you to be awake and alert all the time. I have the feeling that there may be more medical assistance needed. Meyers, same goes for you. Lay low, make him think you’re a dumb grunt. Make yourself invisible. Observe him. Habits, speech patterns, ticks.” Meyers nods. She knows he’s had training as a sharp-shooter. He’s used to this unobtrusive kind of work which requires lots of patience and the ability to practically become one with your surroundings, so that the target doesn’t notice you. “Any questions so far?”

She takes a deep breath. He’ll not be happy about this question, but she needs to know it anyway. “What about you?” He shortly closes his eyes, knowing he won’t get around this question.

“I’ll… take care of all of you.” Read: I’ll distract him from you, provoke him, make him forget he has three more people to torture. She wants to smack him a good one, tell him how stupid that is, yell at him… but all she does is sneak a look at Carson who obviously has understood it the same way that she has, but just gives her a minute shake of his head. To him, who’s known her intimately, her face must be as open as a book – even more open than to Evan – and he’s probably seen all the emotions she wants to conceal so carefully.

So she swallows down all the worry and the anger and simply answers: “Right.” Then, out of impulse she adds in a voice low enough neither Carson nor Meyers should hear her, “Just… don’t forget to take care of yourself as well.” All she gets from him is a slight nod with closed eyes, small enough that she’s probably the only one who sees it.

“Sir… I have another thing,” Meyers says, a little tentatively. It makes her suspect he realized that there was some secret communication between his officers going on. She just hopes he either hasn’t heard any of the gossip going round about Evan and her or has heard it but doesn’t give shit about it. The last thing she needs now is a Sergeant who thinks his two commanding officers are holding out on him with something.

“Go ahead, Sergeant.”

“I remember being briefed about the whole Ford-incident a while back. It was said he put the first dose of the enzyme into the food of Sheppard’s team. Makes me wonder if this guy maybe hasn’t kept us alive to use us for testing something.” She’s had this suspicion at the back of her mind as well. She just didn’t want to voice them before getting anymore from their captor on this subject. But yes, maybe it’s better to talk about this now.

“Good thinking, Sergeant. I agree.” And then it hits her. _God_ , yes, of course! The moment he’d told them he used to be one of Ford’s bunch, she should have realized it.

As the impact of her realization hits her, she automatically mutters, “Oh, _crap_ ,” and all the guys’ heads turn toward her.

“Laura? You want to share it with the class?” She rolls her eyes and hits Evan lightly on the shoulder for his stupid remark, which he just rewards with an indignant “Hey!” In a corner of her mind it astounds her how easy their friendship is coming back under pressure from a situation like this. Maybe, she thinks, they _do_ have a chance of salvaging it from the wreckage their respective actions have caused two weeks ago.

“I just had this… epiphany. Carson, didn’t you tell me that the base of this Reaver-thingy-neurotoxin was a part of the Wraith enzyme?” She can actually see how the realization hits Carson as well. His shoulders move as though he was about to smack his forehead with his hand before he remembered that he still can’t use his hands.

“Aye, of course. I should have seen that!”

“Hey, could you two please stop talking in riddles?” There it is again. The impatience that Evan can usually keep under wraps so easily but which is also the first sign of strain to show up.

“Sorry, Major. What Laura meant was that there is a great possibility that we just stumbled over the bloody bastard who is responsible for all these people going mad we discovered recently.” Now she can see dawning all the possible implications on him as well. He closes his eyes again and leans back his head at the cave’s wall.

So far, it’s really not been his year, she thinks. First the broken leg when he’d been trapped with Rodney, then stumbling over these mad villagers with her, then her ripping out his heart… and not to mention all the little to not so little scrapes and scraps he’s gotten himself into up to now, the deaths he keeps himself blaming for… Suddenly she knows that if push comes to shove, she will have to disobey his orders. There’s _no way_ she’s going to let this stupid wannabe mad scientist who’s holding them hostage harm _anyone_ on her team, and there’s no way she’s going to let Evan suffer for them, either.

“Oh, _great_. Okay… listen now people. I… trust you all to know what to do if either of us is going to be injected with this, right?” Yes, she thinks, but she doesn’t want to say so aloud. If either of them – and they all know that Evan and Meyers are the hottest candidates – is going to be irreversibly contaminated with this stuff, the others will have to take them down… even kill them. And if she’s honest: she’d would want to be dead rather than one of these… _creatures_ as well. “Laura? Right?”

She jerks a little. Aw, crap, she actually lost her focus for a moment. Not a good sign. She clears her throat and then looks at him, giving him a rather quiet “Yes, sir.”

He wants to tell her something, but in that moment, the door opens again, and Mr. Evil is back. Her pride doesn’t want to allow her, but she’s actually grateful that she came to sit between Carson and Evan. She knows it’s probably just an illusion, but for the moment it feels like their presence shields her from their captor’s unwanted attentions.

And yes, seeing the three of them sitting side by side at the wall draws some sick amusement from him. “One could almost think that this tough little girl soldier is all talk and no guts.” She’s got _plenty_ of guts, and she’d love to tell him so. However, his interest has shifted anyway, as he crouches down in front of Carson.

“Dr. Beckett, isn’t it?” That nearly makes her gasp. He knew all along about at least of them. Carson, though, tries to feign ignorance and tells him that he has no idea what he’s talking about, but that just prompts another sneer from Mr. Evil. “Don’t try to fool me, Doctor, I know very well who you are. Your fame certainly precedes you. I was hoping, though, you might be accompanied by Sheppard and his team. But as I see it… this is even better. The little girl soldier over there… she’s much more my type.” Oooh, great, _someone_ who hasn’t fallen for Teyla, but rather for her. Won’t Teyla be crushed by these news?

Carson raises his chin a little. She can see that he’s trying to be brave, and that always astonishes her. He’s one of these people who always try to appear like cowards – or at least very wary of anything involving danger – but who posses, in fact, a big amount of inner strength. “What do you want from us, anyway?”

“That’s the big question, isn’t it?” She nearly has to roll her eyes. “Well… I don’t want to spoil all of your surprise, _but_ over the last few years I did a lot of research on the enzyme… which in turn ended in something you might have come across these last few weeks. Granted, the results are… not satisfying up to now. And well, that’s where you Atlanteans come in.” Uh-oh, she can already see where this is going. The bad feeling in her guts just turned into downright nausea. “I trust you to understand where I’m heading?” Oh yes. He wants Carson to help him with his research, he has Evan and Meyers as his two lab rats and her as a personal bonus. She seriously hopes _someone_ on Atlantis will realize very fast that things are _not_ going well over here.

“I will not help you.” Oh Carson… that isn’t what Evan told you to do, she thinks and wants to jump up and shake him. Instead she tries to discreetly nudge him to tell him to stop this.

“Of course. I knew you would say that. And I also think that you are a very good man, Doctor. Someone… who doesn’t want others to suffer for him.” Aw, no. Why, why, why does it always go like this?

“Well, then you’re mistaken. Someone else tried this game before. I’m a wee bit tired of it.” Oh. Look at this. She wonders where this is all going.

“Oh, we’ll see about that. For now… I still have free choice! So… with whom to start? With the good doctor… with the pretty one… or with the tough soldier? Ah… I think… I will start with one of the testing subjects. Come on, soldier, you’ve got work to do.” And with that he grabs Evan by his shoulder and hauls up. Way too easily, she thinks. So it’s very possible that this guy _is_ on the enzyme. Not that she hadn’t already guessed it, but it would have made things _a lot_ easier if he wasn’t. But if wishes were horses…

Mr. Evil drags Evan to the door, but shortly before walking through, Evan turns around again and looks over his shoulder. Is she imagining it or did he just mouth “I’ll be okay”? If he did… she seriously doubts it. But one can always hope, right?

At least… she would, if it wasn’t for this terrible guilty feeling settling down in her stomach and overshadowing everything else. She was following an order – _his_ order – but something inside her screams at her for just sitting still and doing _nothing_. This, she swears to herself, is the last time she _ever_ lets someone else take hits so that she can be okay.


	6. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: off screen torture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I'm trying this "posting fairly regular" thing again. Let's see how long it'll last _this_ time...

** Five **

Make it stop, she thinks. Please, God, if you are really there… make it stop.

At first… there’d been silence, every sound blocked by the massive wooden door closing behind Evan. The three of them had thrown wary glances at each other, not sure what would come next. Then she’d given herself a shove and had Meyers asked about the “fluffy little thing” they’d brought back from God knows where, just to keep them all distracted from this terrible silence.

About ten minutes later, she’d wished the silence back. Furiously. Because that had been when the screams had started. She’d tried to get the conversation going, hold the team together, not let them be bothered by this, but in the end it had been too much. Neither of them could pretend much longer that nothing was happening. “I’ll be okay”, her ass. If she ever hears “I’ll be okay.” from him again, she’ll personally shove it down his throat.

And now the screams are still echoing through the door. They’re not as loud and as frequent as before, and she hopes that this is just a sign that Mr. Evil is losing interest in Evan. However… this hasn’t been the mission where hoping has gotten them much up to now. Then… the screams stop… and if the silence before was terrible, this one is downright unbearable.

She sits very, very still, which is taking up all her energy. But she knows that if she wouldn’t concentrate on this, she’d be up on her feet, trying to pry this door open with her bare hands, teeth, anything to get this guy away from Evan. The intensity of this scares her. Of course she would suffer as well if it were Carson or Meyers behind this door, of course she’d feel guilty for just letting Mr. Evil take them away, of course she’d be afraid of whatever will follow this… but she would not feel this insane need to be at their side _now_.

God, she thinks, you’re pathetic, Cadman. What happened to being professional about your CO? What happened to not wanting anything more than friendship with Carson _and_ Evan? This is exactly why there are non-frat regulations and right now, your picture would be placed as a bad example beside the explanation in any encyclopedia.

When the silence endures with nothing happening, she can’t help closing her eyes and tightening her hands around the hem of her uniform jacket. It’s this moment that Carson chooses to address her in a very low voice. “Laura…”

She knows what he’s going to say, and quite frankly she really doesn’t want to hear it. “Don’t.

“Laura, I know it’s hard…” Yep, that about was what she’d been afraid of.

“No.” He looks a little like a kicked puppy now. Yes, he just wants to help. She appreciates that. But he should have been around soldiers long enough to know that you don’t try to offer them some counseling in the middle of a mission. So as hard as this is for her, she has to hurt the puppy a little more. “Listen, Carson: with Major Lorne now obviously down, I’m the officer in command here. _I_ am responsible for the safe return of all of us. And I have a Sergeant over there whom I need to respect me if I want him to _obey_ me. Show me _one_ Marine NCO who will respect an officer who’s showing a weakness in a place like this, let alone a _female_ officer. I sacrificed a _lot_ to come as far as Atlantis. This is just not the place to sacrifice my respectability, as well.”

At first he says nothing, then he just nods defeated and replies, “I was just trying to be a friend, you know.”

She’s really making mistake after mistake today. She’s been too hard on him. She let the strain and the anxiety over Evan’s fate get the better of her. Trying to calm herself down, she takes a deep breath and looks at Carson. “I know. And I’m… sorry.” He nods, but she can still see that her outburst didn’t leave him untouched. “Look, it’s just…“ It dawns on her that it might not be a good idea to tell him how much this is affecting her when she just told him that this is the last thing she should be doing. “We’ll talk about this, okay? When we’re back, I’ll talk the mess hall crew into fixing you some… what did you call it? Oh right, hattit kit. Well, I’ll talk them into fixing it and we’ll talk?” She’s babbling, she knows that much, but obviously something in her rambling amused him because a little half-smile appears on his face.

“You’ll never learn how to pronounce it correctly, will you, love?” She wants to answer something, but in that moment the door is opened again and a disturbingly happily grinning Mr. Evil tosses a barely conscious Evan into the room. The minute he hits the floor with a suppressed groan Carson is on his feet, even faster than her. It’s quite an achievement actually, considering Carson’s hands are still bound behind his back.

The doctor in Carson – and the medic in Meyers, for that matter – make them forget their bound hands and want to attend to the wounded. Mr. Evil, though, obviously has something else on his mind. He quickly steps between Carson and Evan. Big mistake, she thinks. As much as you shouldn’t get between the Nazgul and its prey, you shouldn’t get between a medic and his patient.

“Ah, not so unaffected now, are we, doctor?” She wants to wipe this smug sneer from his face so very, very much, and a short look towards Meyers tells her that he’s just waiting for her signal to do so, but all she does is giving him a shake of her head. She’s the only one with her hands free, and Evan is lying dangerously near to the fire. Starting a fight now would very probably get him caught in the cross-fire and she wants to avoid getting anyone of them hurt any further. It’s only now that she starts to _really_ understand Evan’s reasoning. Yeah, she scolds herself, great thinking, Lieutenant. Only took your CO getting beaten up to get this through your thick skull.

“I’m just wondering how you expect me to conduct my research with a damaged test subject.” Whoa. Two years in Michael’s claws have done… a lot to Carson. Well, it _must_ be these two years, because she refuses to think that this boldness may come from him not being the original Carson. At least it helps her that she can see he’s not comfortable in his role and needs to put quite some effort into appearing absolutely cold.

“Oh. You just succeeded in surprising me. Well, then… let’s just say that I _needed_ him in this condition. I need to work on the drug’s healing factor, and he’s in the perfect state for testing now. He will be even more so in a few hours time, I think.” She fervently hopes that this means he hasn’t been injected with anything yet.

“He’ll be _dead_ in a few hours, if you don’t let me work on him now.” Come on, she begs Mr. Evil in her mind, come on, take the bait.

“Ah, I’m sure, your pretty girl soldier over there can continue playing nurse for a little while longer.” No, she can’t. She can’t even look at Evan’s unmoving figure. How is she supposed to _take care of him_?

“I’m ‘fraid not. These soldiers… the only thing they can do is shoot and bark out orders. They’re good for nothing else.” Is she just imagining it or is part of Carson’s dismay real?

“Oh, I can think of something the little girl could be good for…” insert dirty look towards her here, “but that will have to later.” That will have to wait for all eternity, you _bastard_ , is all she can think of at this moment. “Very well. Let’s make a deal… I let you make sure this one won’t die within the next hours and you will help me with me research.” Her first impulse is to shout at Carson not to jump into this deal with the devil, but then of course she realizes that if Carson agrees, he will be finally unbound again _and_ he might have the chance to see more of this compound and be able to tell them if there might be an escape road. So _now_ she wants to shout at him to bloody take the deal and _use_ it.

“Alright. But I might need help. Unbind this man and allow him to help me.” Carson jerks his chin towards Meyers, and she silently slaps him on the back. If… _when_ they make it through this, she really owes him a ton of Scottish food and some really good whiskey. And babysitting his turtles once or twice.

“Ah, ah, how stupid do you think I am?” Carson raises his chin, and something in the change of his posture makes him look bigger than he really is.

“You want me to help you, you take off the bindings.” It always amazes her how much of a lion he can become when someone is denying him giving someone medical assistance. It’s one of the things that once upon a time made her fall in love with him, and even though these feelings have dissipated now, it still impresses her.

“Well… sometimes you have to compromise… how about I take this man’s bindings off, but don’t allow him out of this cozy little cave?” Instead of answering, Carson suddenly sneaks her a look. She realizes that her little speech did something to him. It made him realize that _she_ ’s the one in charge now. He asks her for authorization to enter into this. Without another hesitation, she nods, hoping Carson knows what do to while in this guy’s lab or whatever he calls his research facility.

With that, Mr. Evil – can’t that stupid bastard of a bad guy just tell them his name? It’s not as if they’re in a position to sprout it all over the galaxy, anyway – walks over to Meyers, who looks as if he needs every ounce of strength not to jump the man and cuts him lose. His last words before disappearing again have a strange ring to them, as he says, “You’ve got twenty minutes, Doctor. Make the best of them.”

Immediately, all of them scramble towards Evan. As they all crouch down around him, he finally coughs and mutters something sounding like, “Thanks for all the… attention, people, but I’m… fine.” This is just too much for her. She doesn’t know whether to slap him, kiss him or dissolve into hysterical laughter.

So in the end she opts for a simple growled, “The hell you are,” which is seconded by Carson who instantaneously motions her to kneel behind Evan to rest his head on her thighs, while Carson and Meyers carefully maneuver him on his back.

“Listen, all of you…” Without thinking she puts her hand on his mouth, knowing he won’t shut up if she didn’t. He wants to move his hand to remove the offending fingers from his mouth, but Meyers is fast enough to get a grip on it. Carson starts to work on him, fast, professional, accurate. He pushes up the shirt, and that motion alone makes Evan groan with pain. Maybe it’s this which distracts her too much, but suddenly she feels his teeth in her hand and automatically pulls it away.

“I said… _listen_. _God_ , Doc, would you mind go looking for some damn painkillers?” The _bastard_. He _deliberately_ bit her.

“And administer them with what, son?” Carson mutters, while he goes on carefully prodding the impossibly colored skin on Evan’s chest. Each prod is immediately followed by groaning and suppressed cussing – she’d never have thought Evan to have _such_ a foul mouth… he even manages to slip in some Spanish and, from the sound of it, French cussing – and Carson’s face growing graver and graver.

“Holy Mother of God, what the bloody hell did that bugger do to you?” And now Carson’s accent starts to slip, which is _never_ a good sign. She really wants to keep up hope and everything, and of course appear totally in charge of all her emotions, but as if by itself, her left hand has gone from solely supporting Evan’s head to stroke his forehead and his cheek to distract him and calm him down.

“You… don’t want to know. Jesus _Christ_ , Doc! There _have_ to be some oral painkillers in that damn bag of yours! And add some stims while you’re at it.” Carson sighs and then signals Meyers to get the medpac.

“I doubt any of this will seriously help you, but since you’re begging for it…” Evan actually manages to glare at Carson, what with his black eye and the lacerations all over his face. Carson, quite unfazed, just gives Evan the painkillers and stims he’s been asking for.

Swallowing them seems to be quite an effort, but she attributes that to the fact that he’s still lying down. “I wasn’t begging. You were torturing me. Anyway… I want you to listen now. And keep that hand away… from my mouth, Laura. I quite like it where it is now.” Oh. She hasn’t seen _that_ one coming. A little embarrassed she finds herself staring at aforementioned hand lying on his forehead. Painkillerstalkingpainkillerstalkingpainkillerstalking, is the only thought rotating in her head, conveniently forgetting that he probably hasn’t even fully swallowed them yet.

But at least she’s focused enough that she can wrench a grumbled “I can’t imagine why.” from herself. Something in that must have been amusing, because it actually makes him taking the pain to form a smile.

He becomes serious very fast, though, trying to ignore Carson administering a provisional bandage around his ribcage. “There’s… three more rooms behind that door. One… lab, two… testing room, three… probably storage. Storage… is to the right, directly… after the door. Good place for the… weapons and equipment. Door… can only be opened from the other side. And… lab looks pretty sophisticated. You got all that?” That’s… nearly impossible. He actually managed to take in as much intel as he could, even though he knew he’d probably gotten beating into submission.

But thank God at least she finally has found her voice again. “Yes, sir.” He nods.

“Good. Because it’s up to you now to find us a way out of here.” Whee, great… except not. If he’s so ready to put such a huge chunk of his responsibility into her hands, something must be seriously wrong. She doesn’t want to, but she needs to know Carson’s prognosis _now_.

“Once in a lifetime opportunity for me.” She doesn’t wait for Evan to comment on her apparent lack of optimism, but addresses Carson. “Alright… what do you think?” He passes her a look that says very clearly that he does _not_ want to discuss this in front of the patient.

“Don’t even think about… dragging her off to a corner, Doc. I think, I can take it like a man.” Again, one of these comments she wants to hit him for. Doesn’t he get it? This is not the place and the time to make quips like these.

“Alright. I think, apart from the heave bruising and the lacerations… you broke at least one rib, and it’s possible that your lung has been punctured. I can’t rule out other inner bleeding either. You still have your spleen, Major?” Evan just shakes his head. Well, that’s interesting… She realizes that there are a fair number of things she still doesn’t know about him and fervently hopes that she’ll be able to ask him about this, when all of this is over. “Your luck. It sure would have been ruptured now.” Carson sighs, and then looks at her and Meyers. “You need to monitor him while I’m away. If he starts coughing up blood… I might have to… well…” Ask Mr. Evil for some enzyme to keep him alive. But didn’t they agree on not letting anyone of them become corrupted by it?

“Perform emergency surgery, right?” Meyers helpfully supplies, effectually avoiding the topic none of them wants to talk about.

“Aye.” She looks down at Evan, and he finally looks her in the eye. Both of them know that they won’t let it come to letting anyone near him with a syringe full of enzyme. For the first time in quite a while she’s positive that she knows exactly what he’s trying to tell her. It’s definitely something along the lines of “I trust you not to let anyone inject me with that stuff.” As a confirmation, she simply traces his cheek with her thump, making him close his eyes.

As painful as all of this is, she actually wants this moment to last. For the first time in two weeks she doesn’t feel like a total loser at interpersonal relationships anymore, and she can even forgive herself a little for that stupid stunt on the balcony. Showing her that he still trusts her with this small gesture did more for her faith in their friendship than a thousand words could have done.

But of course fate doesn’t want her to have any “moments” and decides to make this the minute Mr. Evil is back. “Now, isn’t this a cute little scene? I’m tempted to pull out some cloth to wipe the tears from my eyes.”

This guy is surely starting to grate on her nerves. If it wasn’t for Evan’s head on her thigh and the standing orders not to do anything… but it is, and so she forces herself to keep her trap shut and let Carson do the talking. “And while you’re busy being sentimental, I would like to get this over with.”

“Your eagerness surely speaks for you, Doctor. Well, then… it would be a shame to waste any more time, wouldn’t it?” And with that Carson gets up, not without giving Meyers some last minute advice. If they make it through this, she thinks, she doesn’t only owe Carson some big favors, but also Meyers. She already has the text for her recommendation nearly fully formulated in her head.

Then Carson is gone and she orders Meyers to retire and catch on some sleep. Something tells her that she’ll need him awake later. He’s a little reluctant, so she assures him that she’ll wake him up immediately if she needs any assistance and then makes it quite clear that she wasn’t suggesting him to go sleep, but _ordering_ him. 

When he’s wandered off into his corner, it’s only Evan and her again. At first it looks like he’s already passed out, but after a few labored breaths, he starts talking again. “Laura, if I don’t make it back…”

She doesn’t want to hear this. And anyway, this is Major Evan Lorne, kick-ass soldier who never gives up. So all she says is a rather gruff, “Shut the hell up.”

As of now, she doesn’t even care about the fact that this is still her CO. Doesn’t keep him from continuing whatever he wanted to say. “No, listen, if I don’t…”

Alright, she’s had it now. “Hey, _you_ wouldn’t let me tell you I’m sorry for being a brat in that underground shelter, so I think it’s only fair _I_ won’t let you tell me some unnecessary last words now.”

A strange sound escapes his throat. It takes a moment to identify it as laughter. “God, Laura, stop doing that. And you… certainly have a point there…” He’s becoming serious again, shortly closing his eyes and taking a deep rattling breath. Can’t he just stop talking? “But I’m saying this as your CO now. If I don’t make it through this… I want _you_ to be the one to deliver my dog tags to my family.”

This… is among the last things she expected to hear now. It makes her uncomfortable and wanting to be a million light years away. “Evan, I…”

“Promise me, Laura.” He really means it. He wants her to be the one walking up to his parents’ house and tell them of the heroic death their son died for their planet… country. Theoretically, of course. Not that this is going to happen anyway. But she owes him an answer.

“Right. I promise. But just for the record: this is stupid, because all of us will make it back. No more discussions about this.”

Again laughing, followed by some pained groaning. “Stop making me laugh, goddammit. And your ego sure is too big for that of a Lieutenant.”

Finally. _That_ ’s the Evan she knows. A little snarky, a little snappy, even in sticky situations. That’s something she can handle, something she knows how to play along. “There’s a regulation about the size of egos according to ranks?”

“I remember reading a memo on that, yes. Maybe… it’s about time… you make Captain. To accommodate this inflated ego of yours, I mean.” Oh, that was a good one. It helps her believe that things can’t be _that_ bad, if he’s still maintained his sense of humor.

“Well, that’s not _my_ decision now, is it?” She manages to look a little mock-disgruntled. It prompts a smile from him.

“Good point. Laura?” Aw, come on, even _more_ last words?

“What?” 

“I think… you’d really get on great with my sister.” He even manages to grin. What the? She decides better not to ask what he meant with _this_. Better just keep playing along with it.

“I’m sure we’ll find another way of finding that out than me bringing her your dog tags. Evan?” Ha. Now it’s her turn to confuse him a little.

“Mh?”

“Where the hell did you learn how to cuss in _French_?” Actually, that’s something she _really_ wants to know.

“That’s for me to know and for you to find out.” Alright, so much for her confusing him. But before she can scold him, he closes his eyes again and adds a slurred, “And now… I think I’m finally going to pass out.”


End file.
